


A Joyride In A Deathrap

by kestra_troi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, Episode: s15e13 Destiny's Child, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Language Kink, Latin Kink, M/M, Making Out in the Impala (Supernatural), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sam and his man bun, Season/Series 15, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24322453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: HunterCorp Sam is not a fan of the Impala. But there are worse places to “reconnect” with his brother. AKA pure smut.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, HunterCorp Dean Winchester/HunterCorp Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	A Joyride In A Deathrap

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Baby You Can Drive My Car](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838958) by [akensing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akensing/pseuds/akensing). 



> The dirty talk tag is a bit of a stretch, but there really isn’t a tag for “one character spouts love poetry to another while they have sex”, so dirty talk it is.

The Impala juddered as they crossed over a mess of gravel in the middle of the road. Small town America everybody! What a joy. Sam regripped the grab handle more firmly, his eyes half-closed against the gusts of wind pouring in through their open windows. He grimaced. His seat bounced under him, vibrating harder as they picked up speed.“This thing is a deathtrap!”

“Listen to this kitty cat roar,” Dean hollered back, either ignoring his brother’s warning or simply not hearing it over the troubling rumble of the engine. Regardless, he was grinning from ear to ear like a little kid doped up on sugar.

A hill loomed ahead of them and Sam sighed. His brother pushed the gas pedal down further and the car accelerated. Dean cheered, practically yee-hawing like some country bumpkin.

“Must we?” Sam shook his head and closed his eyes praying for deliverance. It was bad enough they had to go into the sad little hamlet that passed for a town in order to pick up decent supplies, but riding there in this contraption? Easily, the most dangerous and foolhardy thing they had ever done. And what’s worse, the wind was messing up his hair! He refused to die with mussed hair! “Dean!”

They crested the hill. His brother suddenly hit the brakes and swerved the car onto the shoulder under the shade of a tree. Sam lurched forward, then to the side, prevented from banging his head against the dashboard by the seatbelt he wore. He let out an undignified  _ oomph _ and regained his seat as the car rolled back on it’s suspension. “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” he deadpanned. 

“This baby sure is a beaut,” Dean remarked, ignoring his brother’s sarcasm. He put the deathtrap in park and ran his hand down the smooth dashboard that ever so slightly buzzed in time to the rumble of the engine. He whistled in awe. Sam rolled his eyes. 

Now that they were stationary, he straightened his posture and tugged at the collar of the plaid monstrosity he’d been forced into. He pulled down the visor and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Fly-aways, ugh. “You’re like a child at Christmas,” he petulantly groused, licking his fingers to slick the errant hairs back down. 

“What can I say, Sammy? I’m a happy man!” Dean cut the engine and the rumble thankfully faded away. He took the keys out of the ignition and chucked them onto the dash. “Everything’s perfect: weather’s good, this car is stunning, and I got a gorgeous boy at my side. Life in this world is awesome.”

Sam flushed pink. He hadn’t seen Dean this carefree for a very long time. He pursed his lips and held his peace. Dean unbuckled his seatbelt and sagged into the seat, drooping his arm over the lip of the open window, the very essence of contentment. “This business of driving with the windows down has played havoc with my hair,” Sam muttered.

“Oh, lighten up, princess,” Dean insisted, playfully bumping his brother on the shoulder. Sam shrugged off his hand and harrumphed, unamused. He checked his bun and his hair tie gingerly, but to his surprise his bun had largely maintained its proper shape. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you or your hair, baby boy.”

Sam blushed. He busied himself with flattening his collar. “I doubt our counterparts will appreciate us taking their vehicle for a joyride.”

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Sammy.” Dean waved off his concerns. “Cars are meant to be driven. I’m sure that other Dean will understand.”

“Only if you speak in grunts,” Sam quipped. 

“Goodness, Samuel, what a snob you are.” Dean sat up. “I mean, yes, this Sam and Dean are a little rough around the edges. Uncouth. Primitive. But they’re  _ us.  _ How bad could they be? Besides they’ve got one doozy of a sweet ride.”

“Should I leave you two alone?”

“Oh, come on, now, Sammy.” Dean rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Having you here with me is half the fun.”

“Only half?” Sam looked side-long at his brother, shamelessly fishing. He closed the mirror and pushed the visor back up so he could face his brother head-on. 

Dean scooted closer, his cheeks lightly pink. “Oh, baby.” he murmured, with a naughty smile. He let his hand slide over his brother’s broad shoulder and upwards to cup his brother’s long neck. Slowly, he leaned in for a kiss. 

“We shouldn’t.”

“Relax, Sammy. No one’s around,” Dean whispered, his breath warm against his brother’s cheek. 

Sam scrunched his nose. “Your breath reeks of beer.” His voice dripped with unconcealed disdain.

“It’s all they have to drink,” Dean quietly argued. He planted a kiss to the corner of his brother’s mouth and another on his cheek. His jaw. His throat. His lips skimmed along his brother’s golden skin like a pilgrim seeking safe harbor. “Admit it, kiddo,” he continued. “This cowboy aesthetic of theirs turns you on, just a little.”

“It clearly turns you on,” Sam countered, leaning into his brother’s kisses, but unwilling to let it go. 

“Maybe.” Dropping his free hand down below his brother’s belt, Dean lovingly palmed his brother’s bulge. He grinned. These tight jean things did nothing to hide his Sammy’s dimensions. In that respect they were better than most of his brother’s usual wardrobe. “You have to admit there is something erotic about us playing the declasse.”

“It certainly is vulgar,” Sam acknowledged. He couldn’t help but match his brother’s smile as Dean nipped at his earlobe, swirling his tongue along that spot that made his body quiver. He reached down and fondled his brother’s erection. Dean gasped, squirming into his hand. “A certain unwashed quality.”

“Dirty, smelly men. Sweaty and hot from the hunt,” Dean described.

“Nowhere they have to go,” Sam added. “Nowhere they have to be.”

“Oh, baby, been so long.” Dean pressed his lips to his brother’s and this time Sam let him. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, the taste of beer no longer disgusting. Dean pressed his advantage insistently, while he rubbed at his Sammy’s hardening bulge.

Meetings and accounting. Their father hovering over their shoulders as they all made their final preparations. Double-checking the research done by R&D. The calls and emails from their employees and investors. For months they hadn’t been able to do anything besides glance at each other as they passed by in the halls and corridors of the main office.

Dean moaned, pulling back for one moment to catch his breath. He wagged his eyebrows. “Shall we...cross swords?”

“We shouldn’t,” Sam reiterated. Nevertheless he surged forward and reclaimed his brother’s mouth, nipping at Dean’s full bottom lip. Dean whimpered, hips leaving the bench seat as he pushed his erection against his brother’s warm palm.

“All our supplies  _ were  _ in the Fiat,” Dean sadly pointed out.

“I doubt our counterparts would approve,” Sam added. 

“They may be flannel-wearing ruffians, but they’re still us,” Dean countered. Sam scoffed. “A version of us at any rate. They’ll understand.”

“You think so?”

“Soulmates, Sammy,” Dean supplied. “How could they not be?”

Sam nodded. “Backseat, then?”

“Why, Samuel, I thought you’d never ask,” Dean joked, brushing his nose playfully against his brother’s. 

*+*+*+*+*

The car rocked from side to side. Sam held their cocks together in one hand, stroking their shafts in tandem as they rolled their hips into one another. Dean groaned, pushing his obligatory jeans down around his thighs while his brother sucked a lovebite onto his bared throat. 

“Sammy!” Dean cupped the back of his brother’s head, flicking his tongue around the shell of Sam’s ear. “Speak to me, Sammy,” he pleaded. 

“Karissima, noli tardare,” Sam immediately began. Dean’s gut clenched his body breaking out in goosebumps hearing his brother’s ragged voice spout Latin so fluidly even in the heat of the moment. 

“Don’t stop, Sammy,” Dean begged, his hips bucking into his brother’s giant palm, sliding against his brother’s hefty erection. Roman love poetry: his greatest weakness. 

“Studeamous nos nunc amare.” Sam slipped his hand that had been around his brother’s shoulders down to where their cocks met. He used them both now to keep their cocks aligned what with Dean’s relentless thrusting. “Sine te non potero vivere.” 

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean gasped, blushing red. He hung his head, burying his nose in the crook of his brother’s neck to drown in his Sammy’s scent. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—“

“Iam decet amorem perficere,” Sam quoted. Dean’s head dropped lower. “Nunc, nunc, nunc,” Sam demanded. 

Dean whimpered, panting as he watched his own cock erupt onto his brother. “Sammy!” Come gushed around his brother’s thicker shaft, seeping through the gaps between his fingers. Dean shook as globs of come shot further and splattered onto his brother’s borrowed jeans. 

With the slippery, sticky slide of their shafts, Sam didn’t need much time to orgasm. Dean held him close, kissing his temple mumbling encouragement and Sam tensed. He too coated his hands, their cocks, as well as his brother’s Dolce and Gabbana boxer briefs. 

They stayed in the back seat wrapped around each other for a long while. “We’ve ruined their clothes,” Sam idly remarked.

“Mass produced trash,” Dean replied indelicately. 

“And your lucky Dolce briefs.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t need them anymore, baby boy. I just got lucky.”

Sam snorted, finally raising his head. “So crude,” he retorted, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“What can I say, Sammy? You inspire me.” Dean winked and softly sought another kiss. They brought their mouths together slowly. Careful not to exacerbate the rawness of their lips. Dean pulled back first, bringing one of Sam’s come covered hands to his mouth. 

Holding his brother’s gaze, he lovingly swiped his tongue along one digit before taking it into his mouth. Sam moaned, doing the same. When their tongues met they lazily shared their combined flavors back and forth.

The sun set behind them. Their cramped vehicular oasis grew steadily darker as they cleaned each other up one finger at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re into the HinterCorp bros go read akensing’s fic that this was inspired by. It’s hot!
> 
> Translation of the Latin: My dearest, do not hesitate! Let us now study the art of love. Without you I cannot live. Now is the time to perfect our love!


End file.
